


Angel Eyes

by Slow_Burn_Sally



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn, Aziraphale POV, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 04:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19369510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slow_Burn_Sally/pseuds/Slow_Burn_Sally
Summary: Aziraphale struggles for centuries to contain his love for Crowley until he simply can't any longer.*edited 6/27 to add a part I forgot to add during the love reveal scene*





	Angel Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching a bunch of lovely edits on Youtube which inspired me to write a series of vignett's from the show from Aziraphale's point of view. I've noticed a lot of pining and fluff featuring a long suffering Crowley, so I wanted to try my hand at a piece where I wrote from Aziraphale's perspective. I hope you like it! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. :)

Azirphale marched resolutely away from Crowley where they’d been standing by the lake, half pretending to feed the ducks. His blood boiled. Or at least, it was as close to boiling as an angel could reasonably get. Holy water! The foolish demon had actually asked the angel to procure him holy water! He felt fear’s cold fingers brush the nape of his neck and insinuate itself into his anger, cooling it and inflaming it simultaneously. And a touch of sharp regret, thrown in for good measure. He hadn’t  _ meant _ to bring up the whole “fraternizing” thing again, as if it were something repugnant to him. He feared that was how he’d just come off. He winced, recalling his tone as he’d said it. 

 

“Do you know what trouble I’d be in if they knew I’d been…  _ fraternizing _ ?”. Almost as if he’d poured every ounce of resentment and anguish and fear he felt over his secret connection with the demon into one, thoughtless word. 

 

As he continued walking, stiffly and with a purpose born from pure stubbornness away from Crowley, not daring to look back, Aziraphale was haunted by the brief image of Crowley’s cold, cruel face behind his dark glasses as he’d responded with a sneer  

 

“I have plenty of other people to ‘fraternize with’  _ angel _ ”... Aziraphale suppressed a pang of anguish…. Crowley had seemed intent on giving back in kind the sting that the angel’s words might have caused him. An eye for an eye. A barb for a barb. Who else might the demon have been referring to? Who else did he connect with? Now Aziraphale had a burning stab of jealousy to deal with along with all the other unpleasant emotions warring for his attention after their spat by the lake. This wasn’t good at all. He was a being of love and light, not some easily flustered, oversensitive… human being! But something about Crowley always made him feel human. Vulnerable. Seen for who he truly was. It was unsettling and thrilling at the same time. 

  
  


The angel also felt frustration at always having to be the one to put on the breaks.. To remind the demon that they “shouldn’t this” or “couldn’t that”. Of being the one to continually put up the barriers of propriety between them, then of having to hold them in place by force of sheer will. It was exhausting. And even more exhausting was the fact that the demon barely seemed to notice how hard it was on Aziraphale to maintain some sense of professionalism between them. Otherwise their connection might very well blossom into a real, full fledged friendship. And that was not to be born. That would land them both in their respective jail cells. Alone, possibly tortured to death by vengeful compatriots that neither of them felt particularly loyal to anymore. 

 

Breaking rules and pushing boundaries was in the demon’s job description. And he seemed to delight in breaking Aziraphale’s rules and pushing his boundaries whenever he felt like it. And then there was the infuriating truth, that Aziraphale couldn’t quite admit to himself yet, that he rather liked getting closer to Crowley. That he liked getting to spend more time with him. He was enjoying their Agreement a bit  _ too much _ . The clandestine meetings in the park. The rare and precious nights spent drinking bottles of expensive wine and arguing over the finer points of human historical foibles, wrapped in the golden warmth of the back room in the angel’s cozy book shop. The fond hellos and regretful (at least on his end) goodbyes that were coming with greater and greater regularity as the centuries progressed. Which of course caused him pangs of guilt and shame over being a…. Well… a very  _ bad  _ angel, who was indeed “fraternizing” with a demon. 

 

But holy water!? That was going  _ too far _ . On the positive side, Aziraphale reminded himself ruefully, it was at least an acknowledgment from the demon that he was worried about their connection as well. That he wanted insurance against retribution from Below. But on the negative side… the angel shuddered at the thought… it meant a risk to the demon’s very existence. The thought of eternity without Crowley there as his friend and his sometimes playful, sometimes infuriating companion caused a thrill of panic deep inside Aziraphale that he didn’t have the courage to fully investigate. Not now. Possibly not ever. He only knew that losing Crowley would be unthinkably bad.

 

Already, he felt his anger receding, being replaced by frustration and regret. His thoughts about Crowley were always tempered with a plethora of conflicting emotions. Anger, blended with deep fondness, shot through with irritation. Nothing about his connection with the demon was simple, and it bothered him to no end. Aziraphale liked simplicity. The simplicity in the apple cheeked blush of a sweet newborn baby. The simplicity in the sumptuous desserts he enjoyed, or the simple pleasure of performing small miracles to help the humans around him in need. He’d rather have liked the simplicity of an adversary that  _ stayed an adversary _ , rather than one that was creeping under his skin in a way that made him itch, deep down in a place he was afraid to scratch. 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

Fast forward 100 years or so and Aziraphale stood on the corner of a street in 1960s Soho, clutching a tartan thermos with a white top, staring hopefully at the door of a seedy club where he’d seen Crowely enter an hour or so earlier. He berated himself for having folded to the demon’s request… after all this time. But, he’d heard gossip that implied something dreadful. That Crowley was gathering a gang of misfits so that he could orchestrate a heist on a church. Aziraphale had known immediately what the demon was after. And of course he’d imagined all manner of things going wrong. 

 

The container they’d use to carry the holy water from the church wouldn’t be air tight. 

 

There’d be deadly condensation. 

 

One of the nitwits Crowley was reportedly paying off to procure the stuff would spill it on him by accident. 

 

Someone would trip. 

 

Any manner of stupid mistakes could transpire and then where would Azirphale be? He’d be alone, that’s where. Without his… without Crowley (he quickly dropped the possessive title with a shameful twinge). The thought of losing Crowley, especially to a stupid cock up around a stupid heist made his stomach drop with panic. 

 

At this point he couldn’t deny that his feelings for Crowley had evolved past warm affection for a close friend. What he felt now, after centuries upon centuries of talks and arguments and jokes over drinks and rescues and close calls was something different than anything he’d ever felt in all his time on earth. Something delicate and precious, that he felt he needed to protect and shelter, lest it crack like a robin’s egg, but simultaneously as strong as a wild and rushing river that he at times felt he could barely contain. But he  _ did _ contain it, even if sometimes through gritted teeth. It scared Aziraphale, who was accustomed to a more general, heavenly love of *all* things, rather than the consuming inner turmoil and the deep longing he now felt, focused in on one specific person. It was very, intimately uncomfortable, this…  _ thing  _ inside him. It was  _ un _ angelic, messy and sticky and it burned bright like a torch in the darkness. And it drove him to do reckless things, like collect a thermos full of holy water and stand, like a hopeless fool outside a seedy nightclub, waiting for an idiot demon, heart in his throat. 

 

He decided that waiting inside the Bentley would be less obvious, and slid awkwardly into the passenger seat, thermos tucked away out of sight by his side. 

 

Eventually Crowley sauntered out, his hair a casually stylish mop, dressed in all black with a pair of round black spectacles covering his brilliant yellow eyes. He slid into the driver’s seat and turned to face Aziraphale with more than a little surprise. “Well hello.” 

 

It hadn’t gone all that smoothly. Crowley had seemed genuinely moved by the offer of the thermos. Speechless even. It was hard to tell with his eyes covered with those blasted shades, but Aziraphale could sense a change in his behavior as he carefully and reverently took the thermos from the angel’s grasp. “After everything you said?” he’d muttered softly, turning his face toward’s Aziraphale with what might have been disbelief. 

 

“Should I say thank you?”

 

Aziraphale felt his heart beat double time “Better not” he remarked regretfully

 

“At least let me give you a lift… I’ll drop you anywhere you need to go”

 

Aziraphale took a deep breath, and looking at the demon with what he feared was a traitorously transparent expression, he responded in a tone of aching regret “You go to fast for me Crowley”.. His gaze flickered gently downward to the demon’s lips… those beautifully shaped lips he’d seen spread in a devilish grin or painted with a resentful sneer more times than he could count. How he wished he had the courage to simply lean over and … and…

 

With that, he pulled himself together, banishing thoughts of the demon’s lips from his mind and exited the Bentley, leaving behind a very confused looking Crowley, clutching a small tartan thermos in his elegant hands. Aziraphale walked away without looking back. 

 

_____________________________________________________

 

It was the the end of the second decade of the new millennium, and an Angel and a Demon, who’d just been shot at with paintballs, walked casually towards the large, oaken door of what had once been a convent, tucked away in a non descript, woodsy part of the countryside. The demon had just terrified the living daylights out of a mid level accountant by shapeshifting for a split second into a horrific monster, and was feeling a little smugly satisfied about that. The angel was disapproving of him gently but silently. The demon could tell and didn’t care. 

 

They were there to find some record of where the real Antichrist might be. Hoping maybe there’d be a leftover nun somewhere on the premises who would have some inside intel on where exactly the Prince Of Darkness, Devourer of Souls had gotten off to in the intervening 11 years since Crowley had dropped him off at their doorstep. And they were in luck! Just such a leftover nun was in fact on the premises. But before they could meet her, Crowley had casually informed Aziraphale that he’d turned all the paintball guns outside into real guns. Suddenly the sound of rather large semi automatic weapons firing rather a lot of bullets echoed through the hallways of the ex convent. Aziraphale was aghast. 

 

“But, they’ll all kill each other!” he lamented, his large, pale eyes clouded with anxiety. Crowely told him not to worry, that they’d all have “miraculous recoveries” and that no one would be seriously hurt. 

 

Aziraphale had felt a rush of relief, followed by a sudden rush of affection for the demon at his side. Crowley was always doing this around Aziraphale, surprising him with small acts of kindness…. Or at the very least, tempering his acts of mischief with humor and restraint. He never killed anyone, never maimed anyone. He’d bang people up sometimes, or rather, he’d put them in a position to do it to themselves if they were a particularly nasty person. But he was.. Well.. he was often not very demonic at all. Rather sweet really. 

 

“You know Crowley” Aziraphale remarked indulgently to the demon with a warm smile. “I’ve always said, deep down, you really are quite a nice….”  

 

He didn’t get to finish the sentence, because just then, several things happened in extremely rapid succession. 

 

Firstly, Crowley grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and ran him directly into a wall. Pushing Aziraphale’s back forcefully against the hard stone, Crowley pressed the full length of his body against the angel’s and brought his face extremely close to the Aziraphale’s face, so that the tips of their noses were touching.

 

Secondly, Crowley hissed, in a voice filled with barely suppressed rage “ _ Shut it! _ I’m a  _ demon _ , I’m  _ not NICE _ !”

 

Thirdly, Aziraphale, in the few split seconds he had to react to this development, felt his mild shock at being bodily slammed into a wall pretty swiftly giving way to a fierce blush of desire that rose up inside him like the licking flames of a raging bonfire at the feeling of having Crowley’s body pressed up against his own so completely. This had never happened before in the 6000 years they’d known one another.  6000 years spent being content with a reassuring hand to his shoulder or casual nudge with an elbow to drive home a point, and Aziraphale was astonished at how quickly and intensely his body responded to feeling the full length of Crowley’s lanky legs, flat stomach and narrow hips pressing aggressively into him. 

 

Fourthly, Aziraphale almost immediately squashed this feeling and poured all of his available energy into hiding his reaction by carefully keeping his face a mildly shocked mask. Crowely must have felt something, some change in Aziraphale though, because the demon’s eyes behind the dark glasses grew quizzical. His features, which had, a microsecond ago been pulled into an angry rictus, softened noticeably, and a look of confusion flashed across his face. 

 

“Sorry to break up an intimate moment” 

 

They both heard a woman’s voice from down the hall and blessedly they now had a focal point outside of themselves to attend to. Crowley released Aziraphale’s lapels and turned towards the woman, and Aziraphale swiftly straightened himself up and regained his composure. Hoping that Crowley truly hadn’t been able to sense the turmoil inside of him and simultaneously, feeling a strange sadness at the loss of physical connection as the demon pulled away.  

  
  


____________________________________________

 

It was half past midnight, the evening after the evening of the day that Armageddon had been averted. Aziraphale, feeling freer and happier than he’d been in a very long time had invited Crowley over to his bookshop for a drink (or 12) after their celebratory dinner at the Ritz. It was a strange new world… one in which impending doom wasn’t hanging over their heads for the first time in 11 years.  _ Or _ , he thought with surprise, _ for the first time in 6000 years really. _

 

The demon, also feeling freer and more prone to mirth after the events of the day, had laughed more than usual over dinner. Every time he did, with a flash of those sharp, white canine teeth, his eyes crinkling behind his black shades, Aziraphale’s heart had lurched in his chest. It was getting exponentially more difficult to hide his feelings from Crowley. And now that the threat of eternal damnation wasn’t creeping around every corner, waiting to catch the two being more than adversaries… well Aziraphale had started to let his facade slip a little. He knew the gaze he’d leveled at the demon as they’d toasted “To the world” had been tainted by pure, elated love. He did not however realize that his general demeanor was one that was suffused with so much love as a matter of principal that Crowley hadn’t noticed anything different. 

 

Now they were back at Aziraphale’s beloved bookshop, which had been blessedly and completely restored.   _ More than completely, _ Aziraphale thought as he eyed the new adventure books Adam had manifested, sitting prominently on a display shelf near the front door.  They’d retired to the back room to share a bottle of champagne and regale each other with stories of how they’d helped save the world. 

 

“Did you see the look on that smarmy bastard’s face when Adam told him he wasn’t his father??” Crowley, more than a little tipsy, gesticulated with a sloshing glass of champagne, a wide grin on his handsome face. To Azirphale’s delight, he’d removed his shades, and his yellow and black eyes flashed with amusement as he spoke. “Bet the smug bugger wasn’t expecting THAT to happen!”

 

Aziraphale smiled back warmly, taking another sip of his own champagne, but also drinking in the demon’s beautiful shape under the guise of watching him speak. Crowley’s long legs, slender but muscular, encased in indecently tight jeans, his spider thin, flailing arms, his elegant fingers that carved their way expressively through the air as he spoke. His high cheekbones, his long, elegant neck, and his short auburn hair, standing up in stylish spikes, slightly disheveled by his tipsey flailings. He was quite breathtaking. 

 

“I really didn’t know if he had it in him” Crowley continued (referring to Adam). “Thought he’d take one look at that great beast of a twat and run away.. Or join forces with him… or… Well. I’m very glad he stood his ground. Didn’t hurt to have you and I by his side did it?”, Aziraphale absently heard a touch of pride color the demon’s tone. He was so caught up in gazing at Crowely like a love sick fool, noting at the way his slinky, dark gray shirt clung to his lythe body that it only barely registered that the demon had just asked him a question. 

 

“Huh?” Muttered Aziraphale, struggling to snap out of his reverie, forcing his mind to focus in on the demon’s words. “Oh yes! Good thing we were there. Or else.. All this would be a pile of ash wouldn’t it?” he gestured broadly with his own glass. 

 

Crowley was suddenly serious and very focused. “What’s up angel?” he asked, a touch sharply. “You’ve been distracted all night.”  

 

He abandoned his spot where he’d been leaning (rather languidly, thought Aziraphale) against a supporting beam in the shop’s back room and came to sit down next to Aziraphale on the couch. He sat close enough to the angel that Aziraphale felt his temperature rising, despite his best efforts to stay calm and collected. Close enough to touch. The angel bought himself some time and bolstered his courage by slugging back the rest of the champagne in his glass…. “Nothing’s up!” he replied, a bit too loudly. “Would you be a dear and pour me another glass?”

 

Regrettably, the champagne bottle was well within reach on the coffee table near where they sat on the couch, so Crowley only had to lean slightly over to grab it and pour Aziraphale another drink. The movement didn’t take his body any further from Aziraphale’s, and so the angel was still subjected to it’s closeness. Crowely put the bottle down again and turned his attention back to the angel. The angel who’s cheeks were flushed prettily and who’s eyes were resolutely NOT looking in Crowley’s direction. 

 

“You sure Angel?” Crowley asked gently. “You’ve seemed off tonight. Don’t tell me you’re worried about your side exacting revenge? That little switcheroo we played on them should keep them, both of them at arm’s length for a few millennia..” Aziraphale knew he was referring to the legions of heaven and hell  when he said ‘them’ 

 

“No.. no. I’m not worried about that” replied Aziraphale, swallowing his nervousness with an audible gulp. “I’m sort of worried about the  _ opposite  _ of that actually”. He could feel Crowley’s confused gaze resting on his face like a yellow searchlight and he wished he could hide from the demon’s eyes. To pull his jacket up over his head like a child, to retreat back into the companionable prittle prattle of friendship. He wasn’t ready to talk about this, and yet.... Here they were. He could feel the  _ rightness _ of the time, descending upon them with cruel precision. They were alone, full of wine and peace and safety. In a warm cacoon in the back of Azirphale’s bookshop. And Aziraphale was so very tired of holding it all back.. But he still wasn’t sure exactly how to let it go. If he wasn’t careful, the rushing torrents would escape him and waterlog the moment with pain and awkwardness. And what if the demon didn’t feel the same? There was no guarantee that he would. Less than no guarantee. In fact it was probably prudent to assume that the demon felt nothing but fond companionship.. And for Aziraphale to simply throw himself from the cliff of this deep and uncontainable love, with no one to catch him, and let his metaphorical body dash itself against the rocks of rejection. 

 

“What do you mean?” Asked Crowley, patiently. “The opposite? What’s the opposite of them coming after us?” 

 

“Well” began Aziraphale with a deep sigh, trying to find the right words. “We… we’re free now aren’t we? We don’t have them watching us anymore. There’s no threat of being found out anymore. We’re… well Crowley, like you said at the bandstand the other day.  _ We’re on our side  _ now aren’t we?”

 

The demon seemed to consider this for a moment. “I suppose we are” he stated, his voice unreadable. 

 

“That’s what’s got me distracted and off tonight” said Aziraphale with another sigh.  _ Here we go _ he thought. 

 

“Why would that make you feel off?” asked Crowley, confusion apparent in his tone. “We can do whatever we want now! The world is our oyster! That should be a  _ good  _ thing shouldn’t it?” 

_ He’s just going to walk right into it isn’t he?  _ Thought the angel with dismayed resignation.  _ He’s going to make getting out of this unscathed very difficult. _ He silently cursed Crowley for not changing the subject. For not brushing the angel’s words off as silly prattle and making a joke that would allow Aziraphale to laugh the whole thing off. 

 

Aziraphale took another steadying sip of his champagne and decided to go for broke. Or at least go for close to broke and see if Crowley might help him get the rest of the way there. He put his glass down on the coffee table and turned to face Crowley, keeping his hands resting on the tops of his knees, he fixed the demon with as calm a gaze as he could manage. “My feelings of worry are more about what exactly it is that I’d want to  _ do  _ with that freedom” he began, feeling helpless and vulnerable. How was he going to make the demon understand. That he was madly, deeply, completely in love with him and had no idea what to do about it. 

 

“And what is it that you’d want to do?” asked Crowely, still infuriatingly missing the point that Aziraphale was unsuccessfully trying to make.  _ Why can’t he just read my mind? _ Thought Aziraphale miserably. 

 

It was then that an idea occurred to him.  

 

Impulsively, he reached out and grasped both of Crowley’s hands in his own. They felt cool to the touch and soft, like velvet. Crowley’s eyes widened and his eyebrows crept up towards his hairline, but he didn’t resist. He let the angel hold his hands, warmly in his own. Aziraphale didn’t say anything. He simply held the demon’s hands and looked directly into his yellow gaze. It felt extremely good. Being connected like this. He'd so rarely allowed this for himself before. Without speaking (because he honestly didn’t trust himself to speak), he looked Crowley square in the eyes and slowly, carefully, one by one removed the painstakingly constructed mental barriers he’d set up over the past 6000 years that kept the strength of his feelings from showing in his eyes. He let the love he had for Crowley, all the deep passion, the burning flames of desire, the profound willingness to put down his life in an instant to protect the demon.. All of this he let finally show in his eyes, unhooded, untempered, unstoppered. He felt a deep, cleansing sigh leave his lungs as he let his eyes gently and lovingly search the angel's face, letting them rest lingeringly on Crowley's lips before bringing his gaze back up to the demon's bright yellow stare. He finally let his gaze do what it wanted and suffused it with all the deep and profound love he felt for the demon sitting before him. He felt tears spring to his eyes and fall gently and slowly… falling as he had slowly fallen for the demon over these past thousands of years .… down his soft cheeks as he held Crowley’s gaze with his own. Held it like a lover holds the naked body of his beloved. 

 

The effect this had was immediate. Aziraphale saw Crowley’s eyes widen, saw his pupils dilate and his face soften. He heard and saw Crowley take a sharp breath in, saw his pulse throb suddenly in the carodit artery that ran down the line of his elegant neck. Unbeknownst to Azirpahale, the angel had even started to glow softly.. A pale and lovely blueish aura of light played about his white blond hair and his soft shoulders. “Oh…” breathed the demon gently… reverently... as if he were in the presence of something truly holy and pure...“Oh…  _ my _ ” He seemed at a lack for words. 

 

“So you see” began Aziraphale, loath to break this profound moment with words that felt awkward and ugly by comparison to the intense communication being passed back and forth by their eyes. “I…couldn’t bare it if.. If you…” 

 

He didn’t get to finish because Crowley, his expression one of sudden determination, had swiftly moved closer and placed his lips gently against Aziraphale’s. 

 

Aziraphale, shocked momentarily had pulled back as if burned, breaking the kiss with a sharp intake of breath. His luminous eyes searching the demon’s face. “I….C-Crowely.. You don’t have to….” he tried again, but Crowley wasn’t having it. He stood up and pulled Aziraphale with him, and quickly wrapped his long arms around the stunned angel’s neck and kissed him again, this time more forcefully, with delicious purpose. 

 

Aziraphale’s mind was reeling with surprise and pleasure. He immediately returned the embrace, wrapped his thick, strong arms around Crowley’s slender waist and pulled the demon’s body tightly against him, in the way he’d longed to do back in the convent. He let himself sink into the demon’s kiss, felt the demon’s warm mouth open willingly to accept the slip of his questing tongue, and heard a desperate sound escape his own throat. It was echoed with a deep groan from Crowely, who had now snaked his long, elegant fingers up into Aziraphale’s hair and who was returning the kiss with hot enthusiasm. 

 

They kissed blissfully for quite some time, hands roaming delightedly over the other’s shoulders and chest and waist, lips and tongues sliding deliciously together. Crowley eventually brought his hands up frame the angel’s face and gently disengaged from the kiss. He gazed lovingly into Aziraphale’s deep blue eyes, eyes that were now dilated with passion, and smiled wickedly. Aziraphale felt his heart skip a beat and felt the breath catch in his throat as the demon’s eyes pierced him to his vulnerable core. “You don’t need to say it.” Crowley stated with a voice like liquid silk “I feel the same way. And I want to make love to you soundly and repeatedly until you beg me to stop because you can’t take the pleasure any longer.” 

 

Aziraphale felt his insides turn to hot liquid gold and felt as if his heart would take flight and burst from his chest to fly off into the night sky above the shop. Was it possible to be this happy? But still, he had to know. Had to hear the demon say it. Like a holy benediction.. Like a confession. “Do you love me Crowley?” he asked, voice breathless with desire and anticipation. “Because I love  _ you _ ….  _ desparately _ . If you don’t love me, you absolutely have to tell me now”. 

 

Crowley’s eyes grew serious. He gently stroked the angel’s cheekbone with a soft thumb as he spoke “Oh angel,  _ of course _ I love you.” And Aziraphale suddenly knew that all the times the demon had called him “angel” over the millennia had really meant “my love”, had meant “darling”, “dearest” had meant “beloved”.. How had he not heard the subtext before? “ I have ever since the first moment I first set eyes on you.” continued Crowely earnestly. “ If they’d ever taken you away from me,” his eyes clouded briefly with pain at the thought, “I’d have wanted to die because this beautiful world would have meant  _ nothing _ without you there to experience it with me.. At my side. That’s why I never said it. Couldn’t show it...I didn’t want anyone to know, even you. It was a point of weakness they could use to get to me through harming you.” 

 

Aziraphale felt his heart speed up in his chest “That’s also why I kept quiet” he replied softly, “I didn’t know if you felt the same way, and so I couldn’t risk it. If my people found out about the depth of my connection with you, it would all be over… and it was simply easier to pine for you every day that I saw you than it ever would have been to be taken away from you, or to let them take you away from me”. 

 

Crowely laughed, a tone of warm disbelief coloring his voice. “And to think, all this time, we felt the same. Both of us utter fools”. And with that, he leaned in and recaptured Aziraphale’s lips in a kiss… this time a gentle one.. Slow and languid that took the angel’s breath away. 

 

Crowely broke the kiss after some time and took Aziraphale by the hand. “Tell me angel, he said with a mischievous grin.. “Would you like to go to bed now.. With me?” 

 

“Yes my dearest darling” breathed Aziraphale, his body suffused with longing. “Yes please my love”

 


End file.
